


Parting of the Ways

by SaskiaK



Category: My Chemical Romance
Genre: Aftermath of Torture, Altered Mental States, Confusion, Implied/Referenced Torture, Mental Anguish, Murder, Psychosis, Torture, reality confusion
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-26
Updated: 2017-05-30
Packaged: 2018-11-05 02:26:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 9
Words: 18,378
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11004048
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SaskiaK/pseuds/SaskiaK
Summary: Mikey explains the events leading up to his arrest. Gerard then picks up the story of their attempts to prove his innocence. Can he do it or will his efforts only make things worse for both Mikey and himself?





	1. Mikey sets the scene

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mikey begins his story

My name’s Michael James Way. Sometimes I say it out loud, just so I can hear somebody say it. I know that might sound odd to you, but can you imagine nobody at all talking to you, ever? On top of that, I’m not supposed to speak. If he knew I did, well, I dread to think what he’d do. I never thought he’d do this, but then, I never knew he was crazy.

To everyone who meets him, he’s fun and lively, thoughtful and serious, intelligent and deep. I thought that too, once. But one night I stumbled across his secret; and then and there, my world turned upside down. There’s part of me that still doesn’t quite believe what I discovered, but this wasn’t a rumour or some silly press scandal; I saw it with my own eyes. And to this day I’m repulsed by the memory and terrified by the aftermath.

I say my name so I don’t forget it, or forget what I sound like. There’s nobody to talk to, nothing to see, nothing to do. I’ve been here for nearly three years now, in this small silent world. I used to be in a band and we were good, people really liked us. But now…

  
Maybe I should start again? Oh, God how I wish I could start again! It began a little over three years ago. Okay, from the beginning…

*

I woke up and, at the time I couldn’t honestly say where we were. I thought it might have been Chicago and, well, I’d have been prepared to place a small bet, but well, you get the idea. We were doing a series of signing sessions across the country. We’d turn up in random towns and cities at record stores. Meeting and greeting the fans was always something we liked to do; we loved them as much as they loved us. The fans we met were always fun and intelligent; they really got our music and our message. Some of the things they’d say were really heart warming and many said that we’d saved their lives. I wonder if they realised that they saved our lives too?

  
Anyway, the day got off to a good start. For one thing, we arrived on time! There had been so many hold ups on the road, we truly worried we’d be late and I think the store did too! We must only have got there about ten minutes before the store was due to open. Piling in the back entrance, we took our seats. Already we could hear the kids outside, there were hundreds if not more and we knew then and there we’d be there most of the day. We were only scheduled for two hours, but we held the day open just in case. We hate to let our fans down. We all seem to attract different types of people, I’m generalising of course, but I always find it fun to try to guess who people are most exited about seeing.

The guys are generally there to see Ray or Bob. They’re guitarists and drummers who recognise talent when they hear it. Be it Ray’s breathtaking soaring solos or Bob’s solid yet intricate drum patterns and amazing speed will always get attention from fellow musicians, they’re so talented.

Frankie? Well he’s so small and cute. I’m not gay, but men are able to recognise a good-looking guy as much as women notice when another woman is pretty – just most feel too embarrassed to say anything. Frank throws so much of himself into his performance and has so much life and energy. All the girls love Frankie; he’s adorable.

What can I say about Gerard? He’s confident, handsome, outspoken. He could have his pick of girls, or guys for that matter. But he doesn’t. Well… I’ll get to that, but before I do, I’ll just say that I admired him.

Me? Well, I know I’m Mikey Way, vulnerable, shy and fragile – I attract the girls who want to look after me. And that was pretty cool actually.

  
Gerard had been acting a little strange that morning. It was hard to put my finger on it, I doubt anyone else really noticed, but he just seemed a little over-eager to get to the store. Taking his seat, I remember he looked towards the entrance and smiled. It wasn’t a pleasant smile either; it was a self-satisfied smirk. I read more into it now, because I know better, but at the time, I just thought it looked odd. Gerard was enjoying fame and that was good. He’d quit drinking and that was better. Well at least I thought it was at the time but again, I’m getting ahead of myself.

  
The doors opened and the queue that had stretched for about two blocks filed in quickly, threading their way around the intricate maze of the rope barrier constructed in front of our table. The queue stretched an unfathomably long way and mentally, we settled in for the day.

  
Like I said before, I love meeting the fans and this was no exception. We signed, we shook hands, we kissed, we chatted. Within an hour, my jaw ached from too much laughing and I knew that I was by no means the only one. Even then, I couldn’t help but notice that Gerard’s eyes seemed to be on one girl only. As she drew near to the front of the queue, Gerard’s eyes lit up. Only able to glance briefly between fans, I noticed she was blonde and very pretty. Petite and delicate looking, maybe sixteen or seventeen, it was hard to say.

As she arrived at the front of the queue, she seemed terrified of meeting us; so shy. I offered her a warm and friendly smile and received one in return only to see it fade almost immediately as she glanced nervously to the side. I turned my gaze to see Gerard apparently glaring at me; I don’t think I’d ever seen him that angry looking. Catching his eye, he coughed suddenly and took a drink of water, then offering his most charming smile. I settled back to meeting the girl standing in front of me, once again smiling, her pretty eyes lit up.

  
“Hi, I’m Mikey,” I grinned.  
“I’m Sarah,” she beamed back at me. “It’s so great to…”

  
She paused abruptly and I felt a pair of hands on my shoulders. I couldn’t even see who it was, his head so close to mine that his lips brushed my ear.

  
“She’s mine, li’l bro,” he whispered, audible only to me. “Don’t make a move on her just because you’re first at the table.”

  
It was Gerard saying the strangest thing I had ever heard him say to me – like I could win a girl he was after? Even if I tried to, which, in all honesty, I really wasn’t.  I nodded briefly as he settled back down satisfied with my reply. Turning back, I smiled at Sarah, trying to put Gerard’s strange comments to one side. Sarah presented me with a CD and opening it up I signed the insert.

  
“You must have got here pretty early to be near the front of the queue?” I grinned.  
She shrugged. “About five o’clock, but I still wasn’t first!”

  
Passing the CD back to her, I was just about to ask if she’d caught any of our shows but was interrupted again.

  
“Mikey, don’t hog the pretty lady,” he said smiling broadly at her, gesturing with his finger.

  
Sarah smiled at me and wandered over. I briefly caught sight of Gerard handing her a folded note and holding onto it as she reached forward to take it.

  
“Don’t I get a kiss?” he asked pulling her hand back towards himself, making her lean in. “Or do I have to wait?”

  
I frowned. What was the matter with him today? He was acting like a… well like a rock star. Taking the note and offering him a peck on the cheek, she smiled shyly and moved on down the line.

  
I settled again, but couldn’t quite get the incident out of my head. About an hour or so later, Gerard excused himself and the queue halted. I took advantage of the chance to speak to him in private and headed off towards the bathroom too.  
As I arrived, he was waiting for me.

  
“I wondered if you’d come too,” he said leaning back against one of the sinks. “Won’t they talk, Mikey? The Way brothers going to the bathroom together.”  
“No more than they’ll talk about that scene you threw earlier,” I replied.  
“Don’t sweat it, bro. I like her, I saw her first and we’re meeting up later.”  
“What for?”  
“And this is why you sleep alone, Mikey boy!”  
“I sleep just fine!”  
“Yeah? Well, after I hit that, I’ll sleep just fine too.”

  
I’m pretty sure I looked disgusted by what I had just heard him say, but he just laughed.

  
“Now if you’ll excuse me,” he waved his arm around the room to indicate his reason for leaving the table and I turned on my heels.

The signing continued for hours and whilst it was fun, my day was marred by his odd behaviour.

Tiredly, I flopped down in my hotel room and switched on the TV. Flicking through the channels until I found a news report, I leaned back on the pillow to watch. It had become an almost unconscious thing to do. In interviews we were always being asked to comment on recent events and news stories – like we’re experts! We knew that we had to stay up to date; there really wasn’t a choice. What had started out as a chore became a habit and then an interest.

  
Today was different. I leaned forward in shock as the face of Sarah, the girl from the store, flashed up on the screen. She had been found murdered. My mouth dropped open and I knew this would come back to bite us. I got up immediately and headed for the adjoining door to Gerard’s room, if he didn’t know yet, he soon would and I wanted to prepare him but he was nowhere to be seen. At first I wondered if he may have gone out, but I heard whistling from the bathroom and headed towards the door, which I noticed was wide open.

  
Glancing through the open door, I saw Gerard stripped to the waist leaning over the sink. He was scrubbing hard at something.

  
“Get ink on your shirt, Gee?” I called trying to keep the mood light before I had to give him the other news.

  
He turned, the shirt half raised from the water and that’s when I saw it – the blood. It was all over the shirt, the water was red with it and Gerard’s eyes blazed when he saw me.

  
Stepping back, my eyes wide, I didn’t want to believe what I saw. I didn’t even want to believe it when he came at me slamming my head back into the doorframe. Pain spilled everywhere and I felt my muscles weaken. Everything went black and I slipped to the floor.


	2. The Next Morning

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mikes wakes the next morning but what happened the night before?

When I woke, it was with the most unbelievable headache I’d ever experienced in my life. I mean really bad. Even the small crack of daylight creeping through the curtains was too much for my eyes and I pulled the sheets over my head protectively. My mind started to function slowly; there were so many things to sort out and frankly, it wasn’t going to happen any time soon. 

Okay, so there was daylight, I guessed it was morning, but I wasn’t really up to working anything out beyond that. I was just in my boxers, so the next question had to be ‘Where was I?’ Given the situation and my current severe memory dysfunction, this felt quite important. Pushing the sheets away again, I was at least able to see that I was in my own room and, well, no one was alongside me, so that answered another question. I groaned as my cell phone rang loudly; I had no idea where it was, just that it was nearby. But the volume and sound of the ring stirred my as yet unnoticed feelings of nausea. I didn’t want to get up, I felt sick and my head hurt. I sighed gently with relief as the ringing finally ended and I felt my shoulders relax into the mattress once more. But, like it or not, I was waking and as my alertness returned, so did my memory of the night before. As the nightmarish memories filled my mind, I sat bolt upright and immediately regretted it as my mouth filled with water.  
‘Don’t be sick!’ I told myself. ‘Please don’t be sick!’

It was useless, I was beyond the point of no return and it was inevitable now. Staggering the few feet to the bathroom, I sank to my knees. I won’t go into details, but suffice to say that I was not a pretty sight. My stomach and throat ached and tears welled in my eyes as I wished I could just die.

Now from beyond the bathroom I could hear hammering on the door. I guessed that whoever it was had given up calling my phone and tried a more immediate approach.

“Go away!” I mumbled groggily, wallowing deeply in self-pity. 

A that moment in time I didn’t feel that self-pity was an indulgence. After all, I had just discovered… no, that’s too much, I had good reason to suspect that Gerard had killed the girl from the store. Then, probably as a protection mechanism, I launched headlong into denial. I told myself that it must have been an accident. It had to be; it just had to. But that went in no way to explaining why Gerard had attacked me. And then I started doing it – what we all do in these situations – finding reasons to explain it away. Perhaps he panicked? He didn’t push me; I probably stepped back too far and cracked my head on the doorframe. Yeah, that was it. Could I really convince myself? 

After flushing the toilet and rinsing out my mouth, I stumbled back into the bedroom. The hammering on the door grew louder than ever and then I noticed it. The mess! My clothes were strewn across the floor in a haphazard manner but worst of all, to reach my jeans I had to negotiate a minefield of beer cans and miniature liquor bottles from the room’s mini-bar. Pulling on my jeans, I gazed around in disbelief. What the hell had happened? I hadn’t been drinking. Granted, I didn’t remember anything after seeing Gerard, but that was because he’d tried to crack my skull open. Not this!

“Open the fucking door, Mikey!”

I looked over at the door; recognising Ray’s voice. I still had no explanation for the state of my room. Pulling the cell phone from my pocket, I noticed that there were five missed calls and it was just after eleven.

“Mikey!” he yelled again.

Maybe they were worried? I knew I was! Checking through the spy hole, I relaxed, relieved to just see Ray. I just wasn’t prepared to face Gerard just yet. Opening the door, I was more than a little surprised as Ray stormed past me into the room.

“What the fuck were you playing at last night?” he demanded.  
“Wh…what?” I stammered. If anything, I was the innocent party.  
“Look around you Mikey!” he waved his arm in a sweeping gesture. “You got hammered last night and kicked up a riot. You even tried to get Gee drinking again. You were practically forcing it down his throat!”  
“No!” I just didn’t know what else to say at first. It was nothing like what happened, but there were too many confusing contradictions. I was initially lost for words. 

Ray raised an eyebrow at me, unimpressed.

“That’s not what happened,” I struggled to explain, not really sure how I could tell him what really happened. “I wasn’t even drinking!”

Ray took a deep breath and simply pointed to the empty cans and bottles that littered my room.

“I didn’t drink!” I insisted. “I don’t know how they got here.”

I was really confused by this point, but I had to make him believe me.

Ray shook his head. His attitude suggested disappointment more than anything else.

“I was there, Mikey, I saw you! You tried to pour beer down Gerard’s throat; telling him you liked him better as a drunk. I had to pull you off him. He’s really shaken!”

I couldn’t believe it. I just couldn’t believe it. It was so different to how I remembered it. But the more I thought about it, the more I wanted to believe it, true or not. Regardless of how bad it sounded and what he said I had done, it was nothing compared to believing that Gee had killed someone. I wanted very much to believe I’d dreamt the lot in a drunken stupor. It explained the headache and nausea, certainly. I almost laughed as I realised that none of what I remembered was real, but the reality was I’d upset a lot of people and needed to face up to it. As I gathered my thoughts, Ray stared at me expectantly.

“What did I do?” I asked weakly.

Ray sighed heavily, but I thought I detected a little less anger in him.

“After the signing, you disappeared. We couldn’t find you anywhere; we called your cell, nothing. It was about an hour after we finished and we were really getting worried. We really started to believe you’d been kidnapped or worse. We were just about to call the cops when you showed up.”  
“Drunk?”  
Ray nodded. “Blind drunk and high on something, we didn’t know what. All we knew was we had to get you back to the hotel, out of the way of prying lenses, otherwise you’d be front page news tomorrow. You were making so much noise; we were actually relieved when you passed out in the car. We got you back to your room okay, but then you must have woken up. Looks like you emptied your mini-bar and went for Gee’s and along the way, you tried to get him to join you. I heard the commotion and came in. You had him pushed down on the bed, and was trying to force a beer bottle into his mouth. It was spilling everywhere; half of it went up his nose. I had to drag you off him and then a few minutes later, you passed out again. We brought you back here and got you into bed.”  
I was mortified. I couldn’t even look at Ray any more. How could I face Gerard?  
“I… I’m sorry.”

My voice came out in the barest whisper, though still a part of me was relieved. How could I tell Ray, though? It was ridiculous.

“You’ve got some more apologising to do.”

I looked up. Ray was pointing towards Gerard’s room and I cringed.

“What do I say?” I asked hopelessly. What could you say after behaving like that?  
“I don’t know, Mikey,” he replied honestly. “But you better be damn sure you mean it, whatever it is.”

I nodded as I walked to Gerard’s door, knocking tentatively.  
He opened and I saw the expression on his face that just made me want to die. The sense of hurt and betrayal almost overwhelmed me.

“I’m sorry!” I blurted. “I don’t know what came over me. I don’t even remember it. Ray just told me what happened. I’m really sorry Gee. Can you forgive me?”

A faint smile appeared on his face, which broadened as he heard my genuine distress at what I’d put him through.

“Of course I forgive you, Mikes,” he replied generously, his words stemming the tears brimming in my eyes. Pulling me into a comforting hug, he patted my back gently.  
“I’m so sorry, Gee,” I repeated, almost choking on the lump in my throat.  
“Sshh,” he whispered as I clung to him. “But you know, Mikey, she’s still dead.”  
I pushed him away and stepped back my eyes widened in horror at the words.  
“What did you say?” I stammered.  
“I didn’t say anything,” Gerard stared at me with a puzzled expression.  
I glanced at Ray; the same look was mirrored in his face.   
“Didn’t you hear him?”   
“He didn’t say anything, Mikey.”

I stared at Gerard trying unsuccessfully to make sense of it all.

“Where’s your shirt?” I demanded urgently. “From last night. Where is it?”

Gerard frowned deeply. 

“It’s gone to laundry, covered in beer. What’s with you, Mikey?”  
“The girl, she’s dead.”  
“What girl?”  
“It was on the news, you met her after the signing.”  
“How could I meet anyone?” Gerard growled in reply. “We were too busy trying to find you!”  
“But…”

I was lost for words and totally confused. I had lost all track of what was real and it exhausted me.

“I don’t know what you took last night, Mikey but don’t do it again and you damn sure better keep it away from me. I’ve worked too hard to get clean and you’re not gonna drag me back again!”

I nodded my agreement but I had heard him, I knew it. I was sober and I was awake. The question I had to ask myself now was, was Ray in on it too?


	3. Frank Too?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The murders are happening, but who is involved? Is Mikey imagining it? Is Gerard involved? 
> 
> Will this chapter shed any light on the situation? Hmm.. ;)
> 
> The next chapter after this is the last from Mikey's POV before Gerard picks up the story.

All I could do at this point was apologise again and excuse myself to go and pack. We were moving on that morning to another location, another signing and the worse case scenario – another girl. Closing the door to Gerard’s room, I pressed my ear up against it and listened hard.

“What do you think?” I heard Ray ask.  
“I don’t know,” Gerard replied. “He’s still acting a little weird. Don’t worry, I’ll keep a close watch on him.”

I gasped as I stood back from the door. They knew I was still suspicious, but of course their reaction only served to confirm my greatest fears. I still wanted to believe it was an accident, but now I knew Ray was aware of what had happened, it threw doubt on the whole idea. I couldn’t go to the police, he was my brother after all and I just couldn’t face the idea of betraying him, no matter what he had done. Well, no, that’s not strictly true, but what had he done? I wasn’t certain and there was no proof. There was only one thing for it, I’d have to convince myself of my suspicions and to do that, I had to find the shirt that Gee had been wearing the night before.

Gathering my belongings into my small case, I replayed the events of the previous night as I remembered them then I wrote them down on a sheet of hotel notepaper, pushing it deep into my case. If anything were to happen to me, at least there’d be a record of it. What was I thinking now? That Gerard was going to kill me? I felt paranoid and angry with myself. Grabbing the suitcase from the bed, I headed to the lobby where I knew the others were waiting. I was met with a sea of stony stares. It seemed that everyone in our party was aware of Gerard’s version of events. I had to play along, I had no idea who was involved and I couldn’t risk alerting them all to my suspicions or I’d barely be able to move without them watching me. It wasn’t until Gerard hugged me that the accusatory glances faded away and we trouped out.

Piling into the two cars, we headed off to our next destination, which if memory serves, was St Louis, Missouri. It was going to take us about five hours to get there, which meant an overnight stop in a hotel then off to the signing the next morning. Because it was believed I was coming down off a huge bender, I was excused driving duties. I was grateful to tell the truth, I wanted to sleep as much as I could; I had a feeling I’d be awake half the night checking on Gerard. I guess my general tiredness and silence was considered to be confirmation of the story that Ray and Gerard had spun and, right now, I was content to let them think what they wanted. Right now, all I wanted to do was sleep.

It never occurred to me at the time that it was a stupid thing to do, but when I woke up, I knew it had been. I woke slowly, groggily, as if from a very deep but short sleep. My mouth was dry and I was confused about my surroundings. The last I remembered was being in the car with Gerard and Frank, the next this. I barely know where to begin, suffice to say, I was scared. I was in a small room with a frosted glass door, the top half of which was broken. Along the wall just under the ceiling were a series of small windows, some intact or cracked, others smashed. Through the gaps, I could see beyond the room, it was huge, some sort of warehouse maybe. Then the worst of it, my hands were bound behind me with what felt like a leather belt. No, I tell a lie, the actual worst of it all was when I saw my ankles bound with a belt I knew belonged to Gerard.

_“Please! Let me go!”_

My heart pounded as I heard the small, terrified female voice pleading with someone. No! He can’t be doing this! I heard a scream and crying. It was more than I could bear.

“Aww,” Gerard cooed mockingly, “play nice, sweetheart. Are you really saying you didn’t want this?”  
“No! You’re hurting me!”

A slap!

I just wanted to die. He was really doing this. It wasn’t my imagination, I wasn’t drunk, he was really doing it. I closed my eyes tightly, as if it would make it all go away, but it only seemed to make things worse. Where the hell was Frank? Was he in another room, was he tied up too? Could he hear what was happening?

Then of course, it dawned on me. I was bound with two leather belts; one belonged to Gerard and I suddenly knew exactly where Frank was. As if to confirm my fears, I heard him.

“Well, maybe if you didn’t struggle so much, it wouldn’t hurt,” he laughed as he paused before continuing. “No! I’m just teasing; this is going to hurt! It’s going to hurt a lot!”

I panicked. What could I do? They had tied me so tight I could barely move. There was only one option left to me; I couldn’t just do nothing.

“Leave her alone!” I yelled. “Let he go!”  
“I told you you didn’t use enough!” Frank snapped.  
“Well, you know so much, you go and do it!”  
“Why should I? He’s your brother! And me and Jackie here are just about to get acquainted.”  
The conversation made me feel sick. Frank too? Was Bob involved? I had to assume he was, but it was just too hard to take in. Then I heard a loud moan followed by a peal of harsh laughter from Gerard.

“You bitch!”

Frank’s voice sounded strained and immediately the sound of a hard slap and a scream followed.

“Looks like you’re in no state to get acquainted now,” Gerard laughed. “Better see to Mikey and let me finish up here.”  
“I’ll make him pay for disturbing us!”  
“You’ll do no such thing!” Gerard growled. “Just drug him okay? And not too much. I don’t want a hospital trip, and him mouthing off. I want him where I can see him, understand?”  
“Yeah, I understand, you like messing with his head as much as you do theirs. You’re an evil fuck, Gee.”  
“Yeah, I know!” he chuckled. What should have been a shocking insult, he wore as a badge of pride.

I heard footsteps coming towards the door, almost drowned out by the sound of the girl’s screams. Looking up as it opened, slamming back against the wall shattering what was left of the frosted glass.

“Poor Mikey left out of the party?”  
“Let her go, Frank!” I shouted angrily at him.

He dropped to one knee in front of me and, grabbing my chin, forced me to look up.

“We can, and will do whatever we want and there’s not a damn thing you can do to stop us!”  
“I can go to the police!”

Frank laughed in my face.

“Can you Mikey? Can you really? And what exactly will you tell them? Where are we? Who’s the girl? Our alibis are watertight. What’s yours? We’ll just say you disappeared again, so if you know about a murder, it must have been you.”

I could only stare in return, petrified as Frank opened a box that lay nearby and lifted out a pre-filled syringe.

“We had it ready, just in case. Night night, Mikey, sleep well!”

Her screams filled my ears but just before I was overcome by the drug, the screaming stopped abruptly and tears spilled easily from my eyes. I was at once terrified and heartbroken and I sank with some relief into the blackness of sleep.


	4. Don’t say another word, Mikey

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mikey finishes his side of the story.

I rolled onto my back, enjoying the comfort of the firm mattress and the warm sheets. I stretched out, yawning and sighing as I woke slowly at first then, as the memories flooded back into my mind, sitting bolt upright in a mild panic. It was a hotel bedroom. I pushed away the sheets and swung my legs out of bed. Looking around, I saw that all my belongings had been unpacked and neatly arranged exactly as I would normally do it. Except, of course, I hadn’t done it. It was really quite creepy and unnerving. I glanced at the clock on the bedside cabinet to discover that the time was approaching nine thirty. Considering the time we left Chicago, it didn’t take a mathematician to work out that, even allowing for bad traffic, I had lost a minimum of four hours. Four totally unaccountable hours; that on top of the fact that I barely remembered the journey.

Of course, they weren’t entirely unaccountable; I knew exactly what had happened during some of that lost time. A girl had been enticed into the car, excited by the idea of spending a few precious hours with Gerard and Frank only to find they were her last. It made me feel sick. My brother, my own brother. As much as it pained me to do it, I had to keep a record of what had happened; when I finally had some proof, I could use it. I headed for the desk and found a sheet of notepaper and began to write out as much as I could remember, at the same time finding a news channel and listening as I wrote.

It wasn’t long before the news report told of a missing teenager. Jackie Masters had, it seemed, been walking to a friend’s house and simply never arrived. A search of the local area had begun. I looked up from my writing, saddened and horrified by the news. How could he? How?  
I looked up with some alarm as I heard the knock at the door. After only a brief pause another came.

“Open the door, Mikey!” Gerard called. “I know you’re awake, I can hear the TV.”

I was reluctant to see or speak to him. I just couldn’t face him after what had happened. Hearing their cruel taunts and laughter while I lay there helpless had just about killed me. I had a horrible feeling that sooner or later, they’d kill me for real.

“You might as well open up, Mikey, I have a spare key card!”

On hearing Gerard’s quiet threat, I raced to the door, pushing the internal latch across. Even if he had a key card, now he could only open the door an inch or two, I felt quite safe; he wouldn’t cause a fuss in so public a place.

I heard a key card in the lock and I braced myself, even though I knew he couldn’t enter. The door was pushed open, the latch engaged and the door jarred to a halt after opening only two inches. Through the crack I could see Gerard and Frank standing outside impatiently.

“Come on, Mikey,” Gerard insisted, “we have to talk.”  
“No we don’t!” I shouted back. “I’ve got nothing to say to you.”

And this is the point where you’ll think I’m really stupid; I’d forgotten just how sneaky they could be. With my attention fully on Gerard and Frank at the door, Ray and Bob had unlocked and silently let themselves in through the door adjoining the next room. The next thing I knew they had grabbed my arms and Ray releasing the door latch while I struggled, without success, to free myself from their grip. They dragged me back into the room as Gerard and Frank, with nothing to stop them, walked in, closing the door behind them. Bob locked the adjoining door, leaving only one possible escape route. Not that I thought there was really much of a chance of that. It was four against one; I was severely outnumbered.

“Don’t worry,” I snapped in a tone that sounded braver than I felt. “You made yourself quite clear to me. You can do whatever you want and if I try to stop you, you’ll frame me for it.”

Gerard frowned and stared at me in what I knew was mock confusion.

“What are you talking about?”  
“Don’t play innocent with me, Gerard! I know what you’ve been doing and it sickens me but I can’t prove anything yet and you know it!”  
“Umm, again, what are you talking about?”  
“No! You can’t do this! You can’t make me feel like I’m the crazy one, I heard Frank say that you like to mess with my head and…”  
“What the fuck, Frank?” Gerard’s head spun to face the guitarist.

Frank’s face was a picture of fake innocence; they didn’t have me fooled for a moment.

“I never said that, Gee! I don’t know what he’s talking about either.”  
“The girl in the warehouse! Jackie? Do you not think I remember?”

Gerard looked at me, shocked. Did he really think I wouldn’t remember?

“Mikey,” he began surprisingly gently, “this is the second time you’ve mentioned a girl, and both have been mentioned on the news. What is it that you remember?”

I resigned myself to it. They knew I knew and what was the point in hiding anything?

“You and Frank, hurting and killing her, what else do you expect me to remember? You had me tied up in the next room. You injected me with something to knock me out.”  
“Me?” Gerard pointed to himself. “I injected you?”  
“You first, then Frank after I woke up, I remember it all, Gerard.”  
“I injected you? Me? With my total phobia of all things needle related, I injected you?”  
I took a deep breath. “Maybe you’re faking that like you’re faking sanity!”  
“Mikey, you’re the one that’s been acting strangely. You’ve been disappearing for hours, turning up blind drunk, or high. We’ve barely got any sense out of you; you come out with these… these wild stories. I’m worried, Mikey. I’m really worried.”  
“You can’t do this to me!” I yelled. “I know what I saw and you will not pin this on me!”  
“Gee,” I heard Ray’s voice faintly behind me. Turning I saw him at the desk where the notes I was making earlier still lay. He was reading them.  
“No!”

I tried to run to him, to snatch them off him, it was the only evidence I had, but Bob caught me and held me firmly.

“Let go of me!” I yelled as I fought against him.  
“What is it?” Gerard asked, ignoring my pleas.

Ray’s eyes showed an inexplicable sadness. How could he care when he was involved too?

“It’s a detailed account of the attack on Jackie Masters, everything,” he shook his head. “Mikey did it.”  
“No!” I yelled now thrashing so hard that Frank was forced to help Bob hold me. “It was Gerard and Frank! It says so! In black and white.”  
Ray shook his head as he stared at me in disbelief. “It just says ‘I’ all the way through.”  
“No, no, that’s not possible! How did you do that?”  
“It was lying here, I didn’t do anything.”

I stopped struggling; it was too much to take in. How could he have done that? It just wasn’t possible.

“Get the other one, I must have been tired when I wrote it.”  
“The other one?”  
“In the pocket in my case. It’s in there,” I replied pointing to the corner where my case lay.

Ray gingerly checked the pocket and pulled out a crumpled piece of paper. As he read it he screwed his eyes up.

“See!” I urged. “Gerard killed her.”  
“No,” Ray shook his head as he spoke quietly. “No, you did, that’s what you’ve written.”

I turned to Gerard angrily.

“I don’t know how you’ve done this, but…”  
“Don’t say another word, Mikey,” he interrupted with tears falling down his cheeks. “Please, just don’t say another word!”

*

And that was it; he had me brought here, committed to this institution. They framed me for the murders; for all I know, they’re still doing it. Every day, he sits there begging me to talk to him, to even acknowledge his presence, but I know I can’t.  
He told me not to say another word. If I do, I know he’ll kill me.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Is Mikey insane? Have the guys framed him? In the next chapter Gerard picks up the tale.


	5. You Weren't Ready

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gerard wants to talk about Mikey - at last!

I’m Gerard Way.

My brother’s been accused of some dreadful murders, but I know he didn’t do it. And, no, before you ask, it’s not wishful thinking. I know him; I know he couldn’t do that.

He’s been put in a mental institution pending trial. He thinks he’s been there for three years, so the staff tell me. In reality, it’s only been three months. I say only, but it’s felt like a lifetime to me. His doctor, he got a new doctor about six months ago, he’s been a rock – he’s stayed with him as his physician all the time he’s been there; on call at the drop of a hat. Mikey can barely move and he’s there. I can’t fault him. Except, well except Mikey’s getting no better. I just don’t understand it; he was never like this, never! Don’t get me wrong, I know he suffers from anxiety, but delusional spells? No! And murder? No way! Literally, no Way!

I have to clear his name and get him out of there, but he won’t even talk to me. They tell me that he thinks I’ll kill him if he speaks. How can you break that? Something’s not right, everything’s not right! You might ask why I’ve waited so long; it’s a fair question. I really thought Mikey would snap out of whatever it was that made him start to act so strangely, but if anything, he’s got worse and withdraws into himself a little more each passing day.

The trial date’s approaching fast and I have to clear his name before he goes to court or they’ll destroy what’s left of him. Of course, I have to do my own investigation, the police are certain they’ve got their man, so I’m getting no help out of them. But first, I have to convince the guys that there is just no way he could have done this.

I’ve asked Frank over. I’m going for a double-pronged attack of food and reason.

 

“Since when did you cook?” Frank asked.  
“I can cook,” I replied, my pride a little dented. “I just don’t, often.”

  
Frank raised an eyebrow.

  
“So it’s just for special occasions, then?”  
“Yeah, if you like.”  
“Gee,” Frank leaned across the table with a solemn expression, “it’ll never work.”  
“What?”  
“Us,” he shrugged, “I’m sorry, man, but I’m just too good for you.”

  
I stared back; Frank was on form.

  
“You can drop the gay act, Frank! You don’t even have an audience!”

  
He dropped his chin onto the fingers of his left hand and batted his eyelashes at me.

“You’re certain it’s an act, Gerard?”

  
He ended with a kiss blown in my direction, at least I thought he’d finished.

  
“I’m not the one making a candle lit dinner for two.”  
“It’s not candle lit and I’m serious Frank, would you rather I ordered take out?”  
“Sorry, Gee,” Frank picked up on the tension in my voice. “I… I’m sorry, what do want to talk about?”

  
I sighed.

  
“Give me a second, I just gotta get the pasta out of the oven.”  
“Want any help?”  
“Yeah, could you take some soda and whatever you want to the table, please?” I glanced around. “Oh, yeah and the bread and I’ll bring the salad.”

  
Frank twitched slightly as I took the pasta out of the oven.

  
“Yes Frank, it’s vegan cheese.”

  
He beamed at me. Okay, I at least had him in a good mood. Though, he knew something was up when he found a couple of bottles of beer in my fridge.

  
“Er… Gee?”  
“They’re for you, if you want them. If you don’t, ditch them.”  
“This is serious, isn’t it?”  
“Yeah, kinda.”

I set the table and brought the last of the food and serving utensils through in silence. All my hard work to get Frank relaxed and willing to hear me out had gone for nothing now that the tension in me was building. As it turned out Frank knows me better than I thought and he’s a nicer guy than I was giving him credit for. But that’s me all over. I always manage to convince myself that I’m alone in things, especially since Mikey isn’t here. These guys are my best friends, and I really needed their help right now.

“So,” Frank began helping himself to an impossibly large helping of pasta, “you want to talk about Mikey?”

  
I nearly choked on my food. Almost draining my glass to stop the coughing, I glanced up to see him tucking into the bowlful in front of him.

  
“This is good pasta!” he grinned, swallowing another mouthful. “You can cook more often.”  
“How did you know?” I gasped.  
“Well,” he looked down at his bowl, “it looks like pasta.”  
I closed my eyes and spoke with my jaw clenched. “I didn’t mean, how did you know it was pasta.”

  
Frank patted my arm to make me look at him.

  
“I know,” he nodded with a smile. “But you’re kinda tense, I thought it might help.”  
“How did you…?”  
“How did I know you wanted to talk about Mikey?” Frank cut in. “Because you’ve been wanting to for three months. Hell, we’ve all been wanting to for three months, but you weren’t ready.”  
“I wasn’t ready?”

  
Frank put his fork down; this was serious.

  
“No, Gee, every time we mentioned him, you changed the subject or brushed us away with, ‘ _he’ll be okay soon_ ’ or ‘ _he’ll talk to me today, I know it_ ’ or, I don’t know Gee, maybe we’ll wake up and it’s all been a bad dream?”

  
I was really taken aback. Had I really been like that? Had I pushed everyone away?

  
“Frank, I… I wanted to talk to you…” I sighed. Why was this so hard?  
“Okay,” Frank took over the conversation, “perhaps I should start by saying that I believe Mikey’s innocent?”  
“You do?” I’m fairly certain my eyes lit up at the words.  
“Yeah, I do, and I’m not the only one.”  
“You mean, the guys?”  
Frank chewed his lower lip.  
“That’s no then?” I asked despondently.  
“It’s not no, but it’s not yes… well…”  
“Frank!” I couldn’t help it, I hated the confusion of what he was saying, or not saying to me. “Do they think he’s guilty?”  
“No!” Frank said emphatically. “But, well, Bob wants to try to prove his innocence but he’s concerned that the proof isn’t out there.”  
“That’s like saying he’s guilty.”  
“No, it’s like saying he’s innocent, but we can’t prove it.”  
I shook my head at the technicality. “And Ray?”  
Frank sighed deeply. “Gee, what you’ve gotta remember is it was Ray who read the notes that Mikey wrote. Hand written confessions with all the grisly details. He wants to believe it wasn’t him, he really does, but he can’t get those images out of his head.”

  
I nodded, I understood, I really did, it was hard for all of us.

  
“I’m going to do a little digging of my own,” I announced.  
“Well about time too!”  
I smiled. “Will you help me?”  
“I already have.”

  
Frank rose from the table and headed to the hallway from which he brought a messenger bag, so full he couldn’t close the flap.

  
“What’s that?” I asked, with curiosity.

  
He pulled out a large file.

  
“I have a friend who managed to get me copies of the police file, I have all the information on,” he paused, “there’re actually three girls’ murders they’re trying to pin on him, but the first one is a little different to the others. I think if we start there, we might either get some clues or rule her out altogether.”

  
I was up and out of my chair in less than the blink of an eye. I hugged Frank like I was afraid of ever letting go.

  
“Thank you! Thank you! Thank you!” I cried with tears rolling down my cheeks.  
“Come on, Gee, the food’s getting cold and you’re tearing up my favourite shirt.”

  
I pulled back, wiping the tears from my cheeks.

  
“You’re a very, very special friend, Frankie! You know that?”  
“Yeah,” he grinned, “I told you I was too good for you! Now, come on, it’s getting cold!”


	6. Who Framed Mikey Way?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> With Gerard filling in some of the blanks in Frank's research, the pair come to a terrifying conclusion over the identity of the murderer. Gerard goes to retrieve Mikey's diary in the hope of finding some proof...

I don’t know where he puts it, I really don’t. He’s small, he’s skinny but he eats like a horse! No wonder he walks around like he’s on energy overload all the time. If he were ever made to sit still for any length of time, he’d probably blow up like a balloon. But making Frank sit still would be as impossible as the sun taking a day off from rising.

“I’m going to call Bob and Ray, see if they can come over,” he announced as I cleared the dishes.  
“Really?” I replied with some surprise. “But they don’t think he’s innocent.”  
Frank sighed. “You know, Gee, if you’re going to do some investigating, you’ve really got to listen to what people say.”  
“I do listen,” I insisted. “You said they didn’t think he was guilty…”  
“Yes.”  
“But you also said they didn’t think he was innocent.”  
“No, I said they wanted to believe he was innocent.”  
“That’s the same thing just without the ‘but’ on the end!”  
“Gerard, you can’t see what’s right in front of you, can you?”  
He wasn’t shouting, he was almost begging. It was a tone I rarely heard in anyone; it shut me up.  
“They’re worried.” He continued. “Worried about how this will affect you. That he’s innocent and we can’t prove it and what that’ll do to you.”  
I nodded; I understood now. All I could see was that he was my brother and I had to help him. But they were torn between two friends. It was as clear as day now and I felt stupid not to have seen it before.  
“I’ll talk to them, make them see that it’ll hurt me more if we don’t even try.”  
“Good,” Frank smiled cheerfully, “I’ll call them. We’ll do this, Gerard. We’ll prove his innocence, I know we will.”

There was something very comforting about Frank’s determined tone. He said we’d do it, and I believed every word of it. He’s like that, Frank. Somehow he’ll lift your spirits, no matter what. He has so much drive and positive energy; I felt like that there was nothing we couldn’t do.

*

When I came back in from the kitchen, there were several piles of files arranged on the table. Each pile contained colour-coded files filled with papers, neatly separated by card inserts with various sections of the papers carefully labelled with tiny markers sticking out at various points. I was impressed. Amazed. Actually, I was stunned, almost into silence. I couldn’t believe he’d done all this work.

“How long have you been working on this?”  
Frank shrugged. “About two months.”  
“Why didn’t you tell me?” Then almost immediately, I raised my hand. “I know, I wasn’t ready.”

I felt like a complete idiot.

“Actually, it wasn’t just me.”  
“You mean… Bob and Ray?”

Frank raised his eyebrows and nodded.

“Why do you think they’re so concerned about the evidence, or lack of it? They’ve seen it!”

And now I felt worse.

“So, basically, you three have been working hard to get evidence to prove Mikey’s innocence while I’ve had my head in the sand?”

Frank rested his elbow on the table, dropped his chin into his hand and grinned at me.

“Okay then, Mister Ostrich, get your head out the sand, get your ass over here and let me bring you up to speed.”

I couldn’t help but grin back at him as I slid into the chair next to him.

“Oh and Ray is on his way, Bob will be along a little later, he’s in the middle of a drum lesson.” Frank told me.  
“Bob’s taking drum lessons? Why?”  
“No, Bob is giving drum lessons.”  
“Oh,” I shrugged. “That’s new.”  
“Actually, it’s not, he’s been doing it for a while now. My friend who gets me the police files, he has a kid, likes drums, likes us. Free lessons from Bob equals copies of files and everyone’s happy.”  
“You’re amazing!” 

I just couldn’t believe what Frank had done, what they’d all done, while I’d basically sat in a state of shock for three months.

“Yes,” Frank nodded gravely but with the hint of a smile. “Yes, I am. Now come on, listen up, this is going to take some time and Ray will be here soon.”  
“I’m listening,” I said as positively and enthusiastically as I could.  
“Right,” Frank indicated to a pile of blue files at one end of the table. “Those files are all the details on the three girls, where, when, how, everything. Now, before you look at those…” Frank took a deep breath before continuing. “You’ve got to remember, Mikey didn’t do it. Okay? The things they say he did, it was someone else. You’ve really got to keep that in your head while you read it.”  
“That bad?” I asked shakily.  
“Yeah,” Frank replied quietly. “But at the same time, it’ll make you want to find who really did it all the more.”  
“I don’t need any other incentive,” I replied firmly.  
“No, you don’t,” he looked down. “Neither did I, but it’ll give you one. It’s really not pleasant.”  
“What are the other files?” I asked trying to distract him from the memory of what he had seen and read in the murder files.  
Frank took a deep breath and pushed his shoulders back. “This one is a psychiatric report, this is copies of evidence and crime scene reports, DNA, fingerprints, Mikey’s notes, and so on.”  
“There’re fingerprints and DNA? Mikey’s? At the crime scenes?”  
“Two of them, yeah,” Frank replied despondently.  
“How is that possible? Mikey didn’t do it, he… he…” I drew a blank with my words and lowered my eyes.  
“Don’t doubt him now!” Frank yelled at me. “There’s a reason for this, I know there is!”

I nodded, ashamed of my lapse. He was innocent; I knew that as a fact. Damn the evidence! Mikey was framed and we had to prove it. Somehow.

*

“Hopefully, you can add a bit more detail to this.”

Frank unfolded a large sheet of paper, well actually two large sheets of paper taped together. On one half he had a calendar showing the two weeks prior to Mikey’s arrest with information written into many of the days. On the other half where several maps, some at street view, some at state view. Small stickers in two different colours indicated, what I realised immediately, were the murder sites and our locations at the time, both the signings and the hotels. Highlighted sections indicated the route we had taken in the cars with estimated timings marked on at various points.

“You really should have told me you were doing this,” I told him quietly, ashamed of myself for not even realising while I was drowning in denial.  
“I would have done, soon, but you came to me first, which was better really.”

I could feel my eyes stinging and I closed them while I fought back the lump in my throat. Pull yourself together! 

It was as if Frank could hear my thoughts. 

“You have a read of that,” he said handing me a pencil and an eraser as he got to his feet, “make any additions or changes you can think of an I’ll put some coffee on.”  
“Thanks, Frank.”

It was all I could say. It sounded weak and lame, but he smiled at me and once again the feeling that we could do this washed over me. As he headed to the kitchen, I began to read.

By the time Frank came back to the table, I had made some minor adjustments and additions, but I’ll admit that prior to the signing sessions, I didn’t have much of a clue about Mikey’s whereabouts unless we had done something together. If we wanted more information, we were going to have to get his diary. Frank could tell I was looking a little lost; it was so important that I didn’t miss anything and his earlier words about paying attention were really eating at me. I was convinced I was missing something.

“We need his diary, Frank,” I said as he sat down beside me. “There’re going to be a lot of gaps without it.”  
Frank nodded. “It’s not in evidence, so it must still be at his place and if the police don’t have it yet, I’d take that as they don’t want it.”

I liked his thinking. He continued:

“We can’t go yet, because Ray’s not here, wouldn’t really be fair to leave him outside waiting would it?” Frank pretended to jump up as if to leave then sat down again shaking his head. “No, we couldn’t do that. Could we?”  
“Okay, we’ll get it later,” I laughed. I actually laughed; it was the first time in ages and I hadn’t even noticed.  
“Right, now the thing that worries me with this, is the second two girls that we know about were killed on consecutive days during the signing sessions. The first one was about a week earlier and neither Mikey’s DNA or fingerprints were found at the crime scene. The murder was too similar to be someone other than the same guy who killed the other two girls. The police are saying that Mikey just got careless for the other two, but we know different.”  
“The DNA, what was it from?”

Frank squeezed my arm, understanding what I was really asking.

“It’s okay, Gee, it was hair and blood, nothing else.”

I nodded gratefully, but then it dawned on me.

“Blood? I never saw any cuts or scratches on him.”  
“No,” Frank agreed. “Even the police had to admit that.”  
“So, what are we saying?”  
“There are two possibilities for the DNA evidence. Either, he’s there at the crime scene or someone has got hold of samples of Mikey’s hair and blood and left it there. But that doesn’t explain the fingerprints or how he knows about the murders in so much detail to write it down the way he did.”  
“Aren’t we trying to prove he’s not guilty?” I asked hopelessly.  
“And now you see why we have such a problem with the evidence. Gee, whoever’s done this; he’s clever. I believe Mikey was there…”  
“What?”  
“Hear me out!” Frank raised his hands defensively. “I believe he was there, in body but only partially in mind.”  
“You think he’s crazy?”  
“No!” Frank’s shoulders sagged. “I don’t really know what I mean! Somehow he knows the details of the crimes, well, the last two anyway but he’s blanking it out. He sort of knows it wasn’t him, but in his mind, it’s us. I really don’t understand.”  
“It’s like…” I paused. “Wait, he came back high on something after both occasions.”  
“Mikey’s not taking drugs,” Frank replied flatly.  
“No, but what if he was at the crime scenes with the guy who was doing this? And he was dosing him with some sort of, I don’t know, a hallucinogen maybe?”  
“But there’d need to be a reason he was at the crime scenes and it doesn’t explain his strange behaviour or him thinking it was us. I'm not sure it would answer all the questions, but even if he were being drugged, it had to be something that was given to him every day, not just an occasional dose."  
"Because they weren't wearing off?"  
"Exactly! And they still aren't! But I just don't see how someone could get to him every day without us noticing.”

I suddenly went cold.

“What if his medication was doing something to him? Or more specifically, his doctor?”  
Frank stared at me, his eyes wide. “Like hypnosis?”  
I nodded. “Maybe? That and drugs, perhaps? Mikey’s mind has really been messed with somehow.”  
“But he’s had the same doctor since he was a kid.”  
I shook my head. “No, he retired about six months ago. He’s got a new doctor now. I wonder how often he’s been seeing him?”  
“It’ll be in his diary,” Frank replied gravely.  
“Frank, I have to get around there now! That doctor is still treating him at the clinic. If it is him, then God only knows what he’s doing to him! I gotta get that diary, it may be the only real evidence we have!”  
Frank nodded. “You go," he said urgently. “I’ll wait for Ray.”

Snatching up my keys from my coat pocket, I ran for my car. It was only about a fifteen minute drive to Mikey’s but I knew it would be the longest fifteen minutes of my life so far.

Every set of lights were against me and the evening traffic was still heavy, which moved even slower thanks to a torrential downpour that had begun only five minutes into the journey. I thumped the wheel and screamed my frustration as the line of cars in front of me ground to a halt, again. I was beginning to feel that I could have walked faster, when finally I was able to turn off the jammed road and head into the residential area. Finally, after forty minutes, I pulled up outside Mikey’s house.

The police had long since stopped coming and going as if it were their own and, thankfully, the press had ceased to camp outside looking for a juicy story. Bloodsuckers! And not in a good way; like vampires. No, those freaks were leeches, draining the very life from the people who gave them a livelihood. They would always conveniently forget that we were entitled to a modicum of privacy, just like anyone else. Even before the police had confirmed to us that we may have whatever access we needed again, I had torn down the Police: Do Not Cross tape. Call it a fit of pique, if you like. That’s what the press said, but I resented their intrusion. Why? Because they weren’t trying to prove he was innocent. They didn’t care, just as long as they got the unsolved crime statistics down. Anyone would do, so long as it was a conviction.

I jumped from the car, barely pausing to lock it and headed for the front door. With hindsight, I should have been suspicious about the deadbolts being unlocked, but I was just so keen to get inside and find his diary and any remaining medication that I scarcely gave it a moment’s thought. I knew Mikey far too well to worry about not being able to find the diary. I knew exactly where it would be and it gave me pause when I opened the drawer only to find it empty. I frowned but refused to be beaten. 

“Come on, Gerard, think!” I ordered myself.

Mikey had been behaving very strangely. Paranoia didn’t seem an unreasonable possibility. Okay, where would a delusional paranoiac hide a diary? There were so many possibilities; most of them far too obvious to even consider. It had to be easy to retrieve, be undamaged but hidden to prying eyes. I folded my arms, cursing his ingenuity, but if anyone could second-guess Mikey, surely it had to be me? My eyes scanned the room; nothing leapt out at me… until…! 

I almost laughed at the simplicity. A line of books sat at shoulder level within a large shelving unit. Pulling at each one in turn, I found it, slightly to the right of centre a book with a dust cover indicating a sports book of some kind; baseball, I think, and within lay his diary. Who would look for a book that didn’t want to be found, right slap in the middle of a display? Normally, no one, but I knew his mind, even when it was torn and tattered.

Opening its pages at the relevant dates I gasped at the details contained written in Mikey’s increasingly erratic handwriting. The book drew me in as I read page after page, slowly unfolding the mental torture that Mikey had been subjected to. Each entry in the diary seemed to be yet another meeting with Doctor Brandt and each session described in phenomenal detail with an entire page or more devoted to each appointment. Slowly the content was changing until eventually it was clear that Mikey was writing only what he had been told to write. And then the diary entries stopped abruptly the day before we set off on the signing tour.

I didn’t know what methods he was using on Mikey, but all I knew was that Brandt had tortured my brother, finally making him stand helplessly by while he killed those poor girls, before forcing his own images and memories on him. I felt sick to the pit of my stomach. Mikey had almost been programmed. He feared us. His implanted conscious memories left him believing that we had committed the murders while his subconscious mind implicated himself as he wrote. This was the work of a sick, callous but undeniably ingenious mind. Worse still, this man was still treating him at the clinic. There was no time to lose; I had to get there fast! 

Pulling the cell phone from my pocket, I began to dial Frank’s number. As I did, I gasped in surprise as, from behind, a man’s hand grabbed my hair and pulled my head down to my chest simultaneously pulling me backwards against his body. Still clutching tightly to the diary with one hand, I dragged at his fingers, trying desperately to release myself from his grip, dropping my phone in the process. Only seconds later, if that, I felt a scratch on my neck and an icy cold sensation as he forced the liquid from what I now realised was a syringe into my vein. The cold liquid continued to spread up my neck and down my back and I felt him let go of me. 

I couldn’t speak; I could barely hear anything apart from the sound of my blood rushing around inside my ears. It was just like listening at the mouth of a giant seashell, but with an unpleasant added sense of nausea. I felt the diary being pulled easily from my rapidly weakening grasp and with an almost soundless sigh I crumpled to the floor at his feet. As I hit the floor, I could just about make out Frank’s concerned voice coming from the cell phone lying nearby. The last thing I remember was the heel of a shoe crushing the phone only moments before my eyes closed and all was still and black.


	7. Truth Drugs Work... Unfortunately

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gerard is drugged and tortured as Mikey had been

I lifted my head drowsily but my eyes wouldn’t open. I was confused and tired and confused… I think I mentioned that already?

Eventually I realised that I had been blindfolded with a long strip of cloth tied tight across my eyes. I was sitting in what felt like a straight-backed heavy wooden chair. My hands bound securely behind me and my ankles tied together and fastened to one of the chair’s horizontal supports. A further rope lashed me to the chair back. I was, as they say, pretty much helpless. Nevertheless, I still tried desperately to get loose. Pulling at the ropes, twisting and contorting my body, trying to free myself, all to no avail. He had been nothing if not thorough.

“Fuck! This can’t be good,” I finally admitted.  
“No, it’s not, but you’ll live, for now.”

Despite the blindfold, I actually looked up at the words and frowned unhappily; I hadn’t realised that I wasn’t alone. I felt tired and dizzy, I actually felt drunk. Worse still, I felt the sting of another injection. 

I couldn’t be one hundred percent certain, but I had a pretty shrewd idea who had attacked me. How he knew I was there was another matter entirely. I had never met Doctor Brandt, Mikey’s physician, so I had no clue what he looked or sounded like, but I would have bet good money on this being him. That said, for all our sakes, it was important that he didn’t realise that I knew about him; that any of us knew.

“Who are you? What do you want?” I asked angrily.  
“I’ll ask the questions,” he replied. “And to make it all run smoothly, I’ve just dosed you with Sodium Pentothal. You may know it simply as a truth drug.”

He laughed at me as lowered my head, but it felt to me as if the laugh was on him. The corners of my mouth turned upward slightly as, once again, I spiralled into unconsciousness. Unfortunately, I hadn’t realised that that was the nature of the drug and a mere five minutes later he was slapping my face to wake me. I felt so strange. Light, sleepy, disorientated, confused.

“I’m going to start asking you questions and you’re going to answer them. Understand?” he asked coldly.  
“Yeah.”

The word was out before I even realised and he laughed again at the surprise in my expression. I screwed up my eyes as I began to feel unnaturally relaxed and dreamy. I had to resist, I had to, I fought wave after wave of nausea and the terrible feeling of complicity. My chin dropped to my chest and I knew I could fight it no longer.

“Okay, from the beginning. Name?”

I swear, I could have cried. The words were coming to my lips, giving him everything he wanted. I had no control. 

“Gerard Way,” I mumbled. 

You see this sort of thing in Bond movies and I sometimes wondered how true to life those scenes were. Now, here I was, bound, blindfolded and being interrogated. I would find out for myself exactly how realistic they were. I was scared, really scared of what I might tell him. Equally I was nervous of what he would do to me, or to Mikey or the others, if he discovered that we knew what he had done.

“Who knows you’re here?”  
“No,” I whispered trying to withstand the effects of the drug.  
“Who, Gerard? You might as well tell me now, you can’t fight it much longer!”

I replied with an incoherent jumble of sounds and half formed words.

“Who!” He screamed as he landed a punch to my abdomen.

Doubled over as far as the ropes would allow, I gasped for air and coughed out my reply.

“Fr… Frank.”  
“What’s my name?” He challenged me.

I bit my lip. Was this the break I needed? I knew who I thought he was, but couldn’t hand-on-heart be certain.

“I… I don’t know,” I replied honestly  
“My name!” he insisted. “Who do you think I am?”

The word was on my lips and I tensed as I tried desperately to hold it back.

“Who am I?”

It was as if there were two of me. One trying to be brave and resist the drug and the other me; the one that knew it wasn’t possible to resist. The one that signed my own death warrant.

“Brandt.” 

I almost spat the word as it forced it’s way through my lips; frustrated at what I saw as my weakness. Though, in truth, even I had to accept that as they say in all the best sci-fi movies resistance is futile. He laughed as he pulled the blindfold from my eyes.

“Well, you won’t be needing that any more.”

I stared up at him, now noticing the beads of sweat clinging to my brow and a trickle edging its way down my cheek. As the drug raced around my body, I began to feel worse and worse. I was trembling, nauseous and my breathing was clipped and erratic.

“You’ll pass out in few minutes,” he told me as my head swam, “but first, why are you here?”

I screwed up my eyes, trying hard to resist the confusion that made me want to reply.

“Why are you here, Gerard!” he shouted pulling my head back.  
“The diary,” I blurted.  
“Why did you come for it?”

He let go and my head lolled forward; I was slipping into unconsciousness again and I received slaps across my cheeks to bring me back to wakefulness. 

“Why did you want it?” he demanded.  
“I needed it.”  
“Why?”  
“I… I…” 

Please don’t say it! I begged of myself. Don’t tell him!

“Why!” he yelled again.  
“Mikey’s innocent.” The words stumbled out against my wishes.  
“And who is the killer if not Mikey?” he asked with a chuckle in his voice.  
“You are,” I whispered unhappily. “The diary… it proves it.”  
He laughed. “It did, but now it’s mine… and so are you.”

My expression must have said it all. His laughter echoed and rang in my ears as I slumped in the chair and my mind spun away into oblivion.

*

I fell to my knees, again, my eyelids heavy and closed. I emitted a soft cry, almost a whimper as the electricity coursed through me again forcing me back onto my feet and walking. Well, staggering, lurching, falling.

I had been awake now and with little water and no food for three days solid, maybe more. I had lost all track of time. I was exhausted, drained but more specifically, as was his intention, I was weak and vulnerable.

When I had woken after he had grabbed me at Mikey’s place, I found myself lying on the floor of a room curled up with my wrists handcuffed to opposite ankles. I was stiff and sore. No position was comfortable as I lay, only sitting up, hunched over provided a little comfort, but not much. Within an hour of my waking he was there, Brandt, but I didn’t know where ‘there’ was. There were no windows, very little furniture. Just him, a table, a hospital style bed, a box of drugs and syringes and this machine, which he told me was originally used years ago for electric shock therapy but had since been adapted for what he described simply as ‘his own purposes’. 

I’ve now discovered what those purposes are and as I fall again, I receive yet another shock. I’m handcuffed to what I can only describe as a manual treadmill. If I keep walking, nothing happens, but if the belt stops moving for more than a second, I get an electric shock in constant two second bursts until it moves again. I can’t begin to tell you how tired I am. 

“Come on! You can’t let him do this to you! You’re not even trying!”

I hear Mikey's voice and I sigh. I know he’s right, but what can I do?

“Stop feeling sorry for yourself! Try harder!”  
“Oh, like you did?” I snap back.

That was unkind of me. I can see Mikey shrink away. He shrinks to nothing. Damn it! I’m hallucinating now! Now I’m screaming again. I’m on my knees, my hands still cuffed to the handrails of the treadmill and the current is surging through me. I’m too confused to do anything. I’m no longer thinking clearly at all.

The electricity stops and I slump to the side, breathing heavily, gasping for breath. I don’t know why the current has stopped. If I’m honest, I don’t even care, just so long as it has. But then, I see a face draw level with mine.

“Good,” he smiles cruelly. “You’re still alive.”  
“You’re killing me. Why?” I quietly ask confused and afraid.  
“No, I’m not killing you, I’m weakening you.”  
“Why?”

I sound pathetic, I know I do, but I’m just so tired and sore. You can’t begin to imagine and, you know, I don’t want you to. Nobody should even be aware of this level of suffering, let alone endure it.

“Shall we just say that Mikey’s untimely arrest left me with a vacancy to fill.”  
“You killed those girls?” I asked it as a question. I don’t know why, I knew it was true.  
“Yes, I killed them.”  
“Why did you need Mikey?” I asked still hanging from the framework of the treadmill.  
“Why?” he almost laughed. “Look at me.”

I spared him a glance, but little more.

“Look at me!” he screamed. “Do you really think they’d come with me without force?”

I stared with what strength I had left.

“You used Mikey to entice them?”

I was aghast. Poor Mikey would have been heartbroken if he’d realised.

“And then I used him to take the blame, but he was oblivious to the whole thing; completely under my control.”  
“And now?”  
“And now because of your meddling he’s been arrested and I have to keep going back there to keep him from remembering everything!”  
“It’s not permanent?”  
“No,” he shook his head. “Not until stage three.”  
“What’s stage three?”  
“There are three stages to the process. Stage one is what I’m doing now; weakening you, breaking you. Stage two is when I control you.”  
“Three?”  
He laughed. “Three is when I kill you.”

My eyes widened at the words.

“Mikey is suffering,” he tormented me on noticing my expression. “His loving brother won’t visit any more and neither do his friends.”  
“That’s not true!” I argued. “The guys would never leave him on his own.”  
“No,” he nodded. “They put up quite a fight, but as his physician I had to insist on no visitors.”  
“You stopped them?”  
“Yeah,” he smiled unkindly. “Poor Mikey, simply abandoned and he has no idea why. It shouldn’t be too long before he takes his own life.”  
“No!” I shook my head in disbelief; I knew he meant that he would kill him. “No!” 

I screamed and pulled as hard on the cuffs as my severe lack of strength would allow, but of course it was useless. 

“You see, I need to get back out there. The desire to kill is ripping me apart, but I’m no fool, Gerard, I don’t intend to take the blame for any murders. Just as with Mikey, if anyone gets caught it’ll be you. And who’s going to question another Way brother turning out to be crazy? I’ll just say it’s genetic!”

I stared. It was all I could do; I felt so helpless. Without warning he slammed a fist across my cheek and I fell backwards, dazed. With everything else, it was amazing I was even aware of the handcuffs being removed. I felt him lift me and, draping my left arm over his shoulder, he dragged me to the bed. I’m ashamed to admit that I was so exhausted and relieved to finally not have to support myself I barely resisted when I felt him pulling restraining straps tight around my wrists and ankles. I opened my eyes half way as I felt him attaching something to my forehead and chest; I hadn’t even felt him unbuttoning my shirt.

“What are you doing to me?” I whispered.  
“Oh, poor Gerard, did you think I was just going to let you sleep?”  
“What are you doing?” I repeated, barely audible.  
“Exactly the same as I did with Mikey, except much faster.”

My eyes widened as he held up a syringe and half filled it with liquid before forcing a drop through the needle to remove air bubbles.

“The monitors I’ve placed on you are measuring your heart and brain patterns. From the looks of things, you’ll be ready for stage two very soon.”

I felt the liquid pushed into my vein and the spread of what I can only describe as a sensation like I was on fire. I gasped and clenched my fists as my skin tingled and felt as though it was burning. 

I knew then and there that I would find a way to make him suffer. Not so much for what he was doing to me, but for the fact that he’d done this to Mikey and over a much longer period. Mikey’s tougher than he looks and this bastard had tortured him for weeks. He was going to pay for it. But right now all I could do was try to hold in my screams.


	8. Remember Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> With huge gaps in his memory, Gerard escapes but will he remember enough to save Mikey?

When I woke up, I was surprised for a couple of reasons. Firstly, I didn’t even remember passing out and secondly I was lying on a sofa in a well-appointed room. I was comfortable, I was relatively refreshed if still a little weak and possibly most surprising of all, I wasn’t tied up. I was still sore and hungry, so I knew I hadn’t imagined or dreamt it. Pushing myself upright, I heard sounds coming from the next room. Plates rattling, water running, a kettle boiling, he must have been making something to eat. A clock on the wall pretty much confirmed it; it was lunchtime. My eyes swept the room, I wondered if I could escape. As my gaze landed on the phone, I decided that escape would be my second priority. Rising silently from the sofa, I picked up the handset and dialled quickly, waiting impatiently for a reply.

“Hello?” came the tired reply.  
“Frank?” I whispered.  
“Gee?” he yelled in my ear. “Where are you? You’ve been missing for days. Are you okay?”  
“Frank, shut up and listen,” I replied urgently, trying hard to keep my voice down. “You have to get Mikey out of the hospital.”  
“They won’t even let us in to see him and it’s the trial in four days,” he replied.

  
I gasped at the news; that meant I’d been taken six days ago, much longer than I thought.

  
“You have to Frank, he’s going to kill him, Brandt, he’s going to kill Mikey and make it look like suicide.”  
“How do you know?”  
“Because he told me.”  
“He told… he… he’s got you?”  
“Yeah,” I replied bleakly. “Look, I gotta go, if he catches me, I’m dead. Just get Mikey away from the hospital.”  
“Okay.”

Replacing the handset, I heard footsteps. Slipping back to the sofa I pretended to be asleep again. I had no idea what to expect or even how to react to him. Was he expecting me to be under his control? If so, I had no idea why I wasn’t. Was it the speed at which he had tried to do it? There was no more time to think about it, I felt a hand on my shoulder shaking me. Opening my eyes, I looked up with what I hoped was a neutral expression trying to gauge from his expression what he expected my reaction to be. My apparent lack of fear or anger seemed to please him and the corners of his mouth turned upward slightly.

“Well, well,” he smiled at me, “I really thought I’d have to give you another treatment, but maybe not?”

Inside I was leaping with joy. He thought he had me under control and he wasn’t even remotely questioning his success.

“I’ve made you something to eat. After lunch,” his smile broadened, “we’ll go out.”

I nodded; it seemed the right thing to do. I very much wanted him to keep believing I was under his control; I wanted to appear compliant but not like a zombie. I thought hard to how Mikey had been before his arrest. He had been unnaturally quiet and subdued, it was what really made us realise that something was wrong – even before he started to disappear for long spells. That’s how I had to appear now. If I could just get out of the house, I could escape and go to the police.

Eating in silence, I worked out a plan in my mind. I would get in the car as expected and we would drive to wherever, then instead of enticing a girl back to the car, I would run. Calling the police and Frank before getting a cab to the hospital to take care of Mikey. All would be well. I ate faster, keen to make good on my plan.

“I’m sorry I haven’t given you much food lately,” he said noticing that I really couldn’t seem to eat fast enough.

  
Much? I thought. I don’t remember eating anything. I must have been really out of it.

  
“If you do well, I’ll let you watch.”

It was hard not to react to that statement. What could possibly be going through his mind that he would see it as a treat to let me watch him kill a young girl? What kind of sick mind did he have? I couldn’t react. If I did, I’d have given everything away and I needed so desperately to escape. Finishing eating, I placed my knife and fork on the plate and almost immediately he snatched it away, almost throwing it onto the nearby table.

“Come on,” he said pulling me from the sofa.

  
As I rose he placed his hands on my cheeks and forced me to look at him.

  
“I swear to fulfill, to the best of my ability and judgment, this covenant.”

What was he…

*

… saying?

My jaw dropped, my eyes widened and if it wasn’t for the fear gripping my throat, I would have screamed. I was in an abandoned old house, standing there, just standing there while right in front of me, he was leaning over the body of a girl. There was blood everywhere. He was totally wrapped up in his own world, enjoying every moment, seemingly unaware that I was even there.

I staggered backwards, falling on some brickwork and knocking over some wood as I fell. It looked as though local boys had used this place as some sort of den but now it was a murder scene and I was an accomplice. He turned as I fell, staring at me with wild unblinking eyes. As he rose to his feet, not taking his eyes off me for a moment, I knew I had to run. There was something about his expression that told me he was still in the mood to kill.  
Scrambling to my feet, I ran from the room, knowing that if I could only get to the door or jump through a window, his physical state of being covered in the girls blood would prevent him following me into the street. I had a head start, which helped and as I raced out of the room I was relieved to find that I was already in the hallway. Pulling hard on the door, it jammed at first but finally opened. Glancing over my shoulder, I saw him as he reached the hallway, but I was gone, racing through the streets as fast as my legs could carry me.

I must have been running for about five minutes before I stopped to take a breath; I was exhausted. Hiding in an alley, I fell back against the wall and slid down into a low squat. Okay, so think! I’m an accomplice to murder, I have no idea who the other guy was and even worse still, I realise I have no idea who I am! I don’t know where I live and I have no wallet or phone.  
I tilted my head back against the wall. And now it’s raining. Great!

*

I slumped back into a doorway to shelter from the rain. It was really starting to come down hard now and I had nowhere to go. Glancing up, I watched as the rain poured from the sky in sheets on the windless day. Turning my eyes to the floor, I watched as it tried hard to bounce back up again. Pushing my hands into my pockets, I searched for anything that might tell me who I was. In one pocket all I found was twenty bucks, screwed up almost into a ball and some coins; in the other, a small white piece of neatly folded paper. Opening it carefully, I read the contents. It meant nothing to me. It merely read ‘M 409’ and the words Sinah Heath. I sighed. Why hadn’t I written a proper note?

Across the street I saw a bar. I didn’t want a drink particularly, I’d probably just have a soda, but I did need the bathroom. Heading across the street, I pushed open the door. It was quiet and dark and I felt at ease. It’s funny how doing things on auto-pilot stresses all the things that you would normally do. Anyway, suffice to say, I felt relaxed here.

  
I headed straight for the men’s room and got my first glimpse of myself in the mirror. It struck me as odd, even at the time, that I still didn’t recognise myself. But, I was comfortable with the idea of waiting until something truly meaningful jogged my memory.  
Returning to the bar, I ordered a diet soda and looked up at the television hanging above a display of their selection of bottled beers. The next few minutes brought everything – I thought – flooding back to me.

  
There was a photo of me on the screen. One or two men in the bar turned towards me with curious expressions etched across their faces.

“Could you put the sound up please?” I asked politely, trying not to draw any additional attention.

The barman frowned at me. Not in an unpleasant way, more curious than anything, but still did as I asked.

“… but the search continues for Gerard Way. Meanwhile,” the photo changed, “in related news, Mikey Way, Gerard’s younger brother, currently residing in an unnamed psychiatric hospital, is expected in court in four days time to face charges for the recent murders of three young women.”

Now all eyes in the bar turned towards me, but I ignored them; it was much more important to me that I tried to figure this out. So! My name was Gerard. I was an accomplice to murder, that much I remembered, and my brother Mikey was a psychopathic serial murderer? Great! Welcome to real life, Gerard!

Wait a minute! Mikey? That name? Wasn’t there something I had to do? I was beyond frustration and cursed quietly to myself; why couldn’t I remember?

  
All I knew was that the news report said that people were still looking for me, but for what, I could only guess. Judging by the way people were staring at me in the bar, I thought it reasonable that it could be murder. Perhaps I had escaped from somewhere? My brother was about to stand trial as a serial killer; perhaps we both were and I had escaped? Yet somehow the report didn’t seem right somehow. Neither report, about me or Mikey, but, of course, I couldn’t say why.

“That was you wasn’t it?”

Damn! I’d been so wrapped up in trying to work this out, I’d been oblivious to what was happening around me. Suddenly, I became aware of three men crowding around me. Turning on the stool, I was surprised to realise that they stood so close to me that I couldn’t even stand without pushing them away.

“Well?” repeated the centre man.  
“No,” I replied unconvincingly.  
“There’s a reward for information on where to find you,” another added.

  
My eyes widened at the idea that I had just been confronted by three guys who had chosen to play at being bounty hunters for the evening.

  
“It’s not me,” I stammered trying to get down from the stool. “I just look a little bit like him.”  
“Your brother’s a murderer.”

  
It was a statement, not a question.

  
“So what did you do?”  
“I don’t know what you’re talking about!”

I insisted. It was actually true, I really didn’t. By now, I couldn’t even have told you my surname. If the report had mentioned it, I’d already forgotten.

“Did you freak out and disappear?”  
“What?” My personal space was severely invaded and I was getting quite agitated.  
“They said you just vanished.”

  
I’d had enough. I tried to push them away and squeeze through the middle, but two of them grabbed my arms.

  
“Get off me!” I yelled, trying at the same time to pull away. I was still really tired and sore and I simply wasn’t strong enough.  
“Look,” the first man nodded, “I get it, you don’t want to be found, but you know that reward is too big to ignore.”  
“How much?”  
“Five thousand dollars.”  
“I’ll give you double that if you let me go!” It was out before I even realised what I was saying. I didn’t have that kind of money, but it was the best I could manage.  
“You got that on you?” he smirked.  
“I…” I was grasping at straws now. I didn’t know what to say or do. “I’m not a murderer.”

  
He turned a puzzled expression to me.

  
“It’s your brother who’s the murderer,” he clarified, “not you. Remember him? Mikey Way.”

  
He stared at my blank expression, but then it was as if a light had come on. Mikey! I pulled the note from my pocket again and re-read it. ‘M 409, Sinah Heath’. I knew what it meant and what I had to do.

With renewed strength, I pulled away from the two men holding me and barrelled through them with surprising ease. Heading quickly for the door I made it to the rain sodden streets and kept running until I felt safe once more. As I caught my breath, I looked around trying to see anywhere even remotely familiar; I had to get to the hospital and fast.


	9. Gerard Tries to Kill Mikey

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Perhaps Gerard is not so free of Brandt's control as he thought?

Thankfully the rain had almost stopped. A few light drops dampened my hair and shirt, but largely I remained dry. Running through the streets, in what I hoped was the right direction, I checked over my shoulder for a taxi. Glancing back frequently was, I know, slowing me down considerably, but I was more concerned with the possibility of missing one.  
On the fifth or sixth turn, I saw one, approaching in the distance. Even in the afternoon gloom and at this distance, its ‘for hire’ sign was clearly visible. I waved my arms vigorously to flag it down; there was no question that he wouldn’t see me. As the driver pulled up along side me and lowered the window, I leaned down.

“I’ve got to get to the Sinah Heath Hospital, but I’ve only got twenty dollars.”

The driver merely laughed at me as he raised the window.

“Please!” I yelled as he turned back to the wheel and indicated to head back into the traffic. I slammed a fist on the roof of his cab as he pulled out once more. “Heartless bastard!” I screamed as I watched him drive away.

I didn’t where I was or how I would get there, but I knew I had to and soon. He could be there at the hospital, right now, killing my brother. The thought made me feel sick.

“Is there a problem?”

The voice startled me and turning, I saw a tall, broad police officer. Behind him, a second remained in their patrol car watching.

“I… no… yes.” Yes, sometimes I impress even myself.

His eyes narrowed and he glanced back to his partner in the car who nodded his reply.

“You’re Gerard Way,” he stated. “We’ve been looking for you.”  
“Why?” I asked, dreading the reply.

I must have sounded crazy, and judging by the expression on his face, that was exactly what he thought.

“You don’t know?”

I didn’t know how to reply. My last memories were of a murder. What could I say? I was hardly going to tell them that! As it turned out, silence worked just as well.

“Are you alright?” he asked me with a mixture of puzzlement and concern in his tone.  
“Look, I don’t have any money or a phone or anything and I have to get to the hospital. I need to see Mikey, check he’s okay.”

My explanation was pretty vague but it was enough to get a response.

“He’s far from okay,” the officer scowled. “He’s a nutcase!”

I was hurt by the words and I showed it.

“He’s still my brother!” I snapped.  
“Sure,” he nodded contritely. “Okay, get in, we’ll take you. But after you’ve seen him, we’ll want to speak to you about where you’ve been. You do know you were reported missing don’t you?”

I nodded. For all I knew, he thought I was as crazy as believed Mikey was. I knew I was certainly giving that impression. It was strange though, the guys in the bar and now the police officer – they treated me as if I was innocent, but I remembered the murders. Was Mikey innocent because I killed them? It was clear to me that my memory hadn’t fully returned, but the part that had was screaming to me and I wasn’t about to refuse his offer.

I couldn’t believe it – I was being driven to the hospital in a police car! The irony was not lost on me. What do I mean? You’ll see. Anyway, needless to say I wasted no time getting out of the car as it pulled up at the hospital. Pushing the door open even before it had come to a halt, I gave the briefest word of thanks before rushing into the building. Taking the stairs I ran up, taking two at a time, my earlier tiredness forgotten in my keenness to get to Mikey. As I arrived at the Nurses’ Station on the fourth floor I waited impatiently for the duty nurse to finish a telephone conversation with what appeared to be a patient’s relative.

“Gerard?”

Turning my head, I saw Bob stepping out of the elevator.

“Oh, hey, Bob,” I waved briefly before turning back to the duty nurse as she put the phone down. “I need to see Mikey.”  
“Gee!” Bob pulled my arm. “Are you okay?”  
“I’m fine,” I replied dismissively as the nurse retrieved the key to Mikey’s room from a locked cabinet.

Bob spun me around and grabbed my arms dragging me over to the wall with me protesting all the way.

“Don’t ‘I’m fine’ me! You’ve been gone for nearly a week!” Lowering his voice, he continued. “You told Frank that Brandt had you; that we had to find a way to get Mikey out of here. We’re getting a plan together and suddenly you’re here. No word, no explanation. What’s going on?”  
“I don’t know what you’re talking about!” I snapped finally shaking him off.  
“Well where have you been?”  
“I haven’t been anywhere! What’s the matter with you?”  
“If you’re going to argue,” the duty nurse cut in, “can you please leave the premises?”

I turned; frustrated to be delayed.

“We’re not going to argue,” I insisted. “I just want to see Mikey.”  
My shoulders sagged as I saw the two police officers approaching, already half way down the corridor.  
“Talk to them!” I pushed Bob’s shoulder so that he would at least turn to see them.

By the time Bob had turned back, I was gone, several yards away, following the duty nurse.

“Gee!”

I sighed heavily – not again! This time it was Ray emerging from the men’s room. I didn’t have time to stop. My one single priority was to get to Mikey’s room and nothing and no one was going to prevent that. My easiest option, I decided, was to simply ignore him. Almost immediately, I heard footsteps behind me.

“Something’s wrong!” I heard Bob shout. “Stop him!”

Snatching the key from the duty nurse, I pushed her forcefully to the floor at Ray’s feet. It was enough of a distraction to hold him up and I was running the final few yards to room 409. Suddenly the corridor was filled with noise – footsteps, shouts and, of course, it wouldn’t have been complete without the wailing alarm system usually indicating a breakout. But of course, this wasn’t a breakout, it was a break in. I turned the key in the lock, slipped in and had closed and locked the door again in plenty of time. I grinned at Ray through the glass in the small eye-level window in the door; I turned the key in my fingers tantalizingly. Slipping the key into my pocket, I turned. Just as I was told he would be, he was just lying there, fastened securely to the bed by the restraints.

“Gee?” He looked up at me. “Thank God you’re here! They wouldn’t let me speak to anyone else and I’ve started to remember everything! It was Doctor Brandt, but no one believes me! You believe me, don’t you?”

His voice tapered off. He knew. He knew I knew. It wasn’t worth going through the charade any more.

“Did you really think I wouldn’t notice?” I asked.  
“Notice what?” he asked apparently confused.  
“He is my brother you know.”  
“Gee?” He shook his head and his eyes widened. “It’s me, Mikey!”  
“I’m not fooled that easily. Oh, you’re good, I’ll give you that, but you can’t fool me.”

I could see the panic on his face.

“Gee… It’s me!” I watched as he strained on the straps; he had not expected this.

Beyond the room I could still here the alarm and the commotion as they tried to locate the second key. Of course, I knew it had already been removed; he told me that. His information was reliable, he had been right about this impostor. Did he really think I wouldn’t recognise my own brother?

“Brandt said you would be here,” I nodded. “I’ll admit, you look like him, you do, but he warned me you would. And you do sound like him too.”

I was starting to get a little twitchy. Something felt wrong and I couldn’t work out what. He told me not to think about it for too long. I don’t know why. But I had already taken longer than I was supposed to. I edged forward then took a step back. Uncertain.

“Please!” he begged. “I’ll prove it’s me! Ask me anything! Something only Mikey would know!”

I shook my head and stepped forward determinedly and pulled the pillow out from under his head.

“You’re just stalling!” I growled. “Hoping they’ll get in and rescue you. There is no rescue for you.”  
“What’s he done to you?!” he cried in panic.

There was no more time to talk, I heard a key in the lock and I pushed the pillow down over his face as hard as I could.

 *

*

I felt his body stiffen and saw his fingers stretch out, clawing impotently at nothing. Strapped down, he was helpless. The most he could do was to try to pull his head away, but the pillow was pushed down either side of his head and I added all my weight behind it. Keep struggling! You’ll soon run out of air!

The door burst open and I pressed down harder, but he was still moving when they dragged me away. As the pillow was pulled away, he gasped for air, his eyes rolling as he took too much. Ray and Bob dropped to his side and ironically getting in the way of the doctor trying to examine him.

“Let me go!” I screamed as I struggled to break free. “He’s going to kill Mikey!”

Bob and Ray turned to look at me but I couldn’t read their expressions. Damn it! Why couldn’t they see what I could?

“This is Mikey!” Ray replied.

He looked hurt, disappointed even. I just didn’t understand. My shirtsleeve was pushed up and a needle pierced my skin roughly. I turned to see the duty nurse glaring at me as she injected something into me. For the first time, I saw Frank, to my right just staring at me. I turned my gaze towards him as I grew more subdued; I felt as though he understood.

“Frank,” I said quietly. “You know this isn’t right, don’t you?”

He closed his eyes briefly then glanced from me to the impostor on the bed then back to me again.

“Frank?”  
“I think I know what to do.”

I smiled briefly before I was pulled from the room. I offered no resistance – I couldn’t; whatever she had given me, I was now walking in a daze.

*

They took me a few doors down and into another room.

“I’m not crazy!” I insisted as they fastened me down to the bed. “It’s not Mikey in there!”

They ignored me, despite my frequent pleas for them to listen to me.

“Let me talk to him.” I heard Frank’s voice in the doorway.  
“I’m sorry, he has to be assessed first,” was the reply.  
“At least let me talk to the doctor then!”  
“Yes, alright but we’ll get him settled, then you can speak to the doctor.”  
“Frank!” I yelled as I saw him ushered from the room.

Tears welled in my eyes. I was lost in my own confusion. The sedative they had given me was making me forget things, I felt fuzzy and finally sleepy. The last thing I heard as I closed my eyes was the duty nurse sigh then address Frank as she stepped from the room.

“Come with me.”

*

It’s now four days later and I’m sitting on the bed in my room thinking. There isn’t really anything else to do, there’s nothing else I want to do. It’s Mikey’s trial date today and I’ve done nothing to help him, in fact, I probably made things worse.

Mikey? You say. Yes, Mikey. My brother; the guy I tried to kill. You see, Brandt’s drugs and programming have worn off and I remember everything. Everything he did to me, but worst of all, everything he made me do. I’d take any amount of his torture if I could just take those actions back. I’ll go to prison and I’ll deserve it. Doctors have been in here almost every couple of hours since I was locked up, taking blood and asking the same questions over and over. Of course, over time, my replies changed from ‘It’s not Mikey’ to ‘Brandt had me under his control and forced me to do it’. Way to go Gerard! Both sound just as crazy as each other! The police have been in a couple of times too. But none of the guys, not even Frank, I really thought if anyone would realise what had happened to me, it would have been him. But I guess I went too far, there’s no forgiveness for what I did. In many ways, not having to see them was actually going to make it a little easier. I really don’t think I could look any of them in the eyes again, not after what I did. Unfortunately as is ever the case, I wasn’t going to be let off that lightly. After about another hour brooding on my own, the door to my cell opened. I had expected it to be a doctor or the police again. I didn’t expect it to be Frank and Mikey.

“Can we come in, Gee?” Frank asked strangely subdued.

I don’t know what he expected me to do or say; I was hardly going to refuse. I took a deep breath – if nothing else, I at least owed them an apology, even if it would never be enough. I nodded – I still couldn’t look at them – and I heard the door close behind them. It struck me as odd immediately that Mikey was here. It was his trial date, but perhaps I had got confused over what day it was. Regardless, it didn’t seem like a good opening question, and with so many other things to say, now didn’t seem to be the time to raise it. If I was going to raise anything, it really should have been my eyes, but I couldn’t do that either. Okay, here goes.

“I can’t begin to tell you how sorry I am, guys… Mikey,” I began with my tear filled eyes staring intently at the bed sheets. “I just don’t have enough words to tell you how bad I feel about what I did.” I started to speed up. “I’ve thought about nothing else and the words just sound so lame and pathetic. I know that whatever I say won’t ever be enough and you probably all hate me and…”

I was stunned into silence as Mikey dragged me off the bed and pulled me into a tight, comforting, reassuring embrace. There was something urgent about the energy he invested in it. It felt like he never intended to let go.

“But…” I was lost for words.

Mikey now held me at arms length so that he could look me straight in the eye.

“When all the evidence, including my own words, suggested that I was a murderer, you all stood by me, even months later when it looked as though I was crazy. You knew, without question that it wasn’t me and I know it wasn’t you!”  
“I tried to kill you!”  
Mikey shook his head. “No, Gee, listen to me! Brandt controlled you, with all his drugs and torture, believe me, I know! You wouldn’t kill anyone, not even him! But he forced you. Besides, it wasn’t even me you were trying to kill.”

I looked at him, puzzled.

“You kept telling me that you knew I wasn’t Mikey. That I was someone trying to kill him. You were trying to protect me.”

I wasn’t convinced, but he was right about one thing. If we expected him to accept that we didn’t blame him for what he did, then it had to work both ways. For the first time, I voluntarily looked him in the eyes and he smiled broadly.

“So what now? How come you’re here? Isn’t it your trial date? I’m sorry I messed things up.”  
“It’s cancelled,” Frank replied. “All charges dropped.”  
“You’re free?” I pulled him into another hug. “That’s awesome! But how?”

Frank and Mikey both laughed and I pulled back to find out what was so funny.

“Both of you,” Frank clarified.

I was really confused now and I dropped back down on the bed while I took it all in. When I next looked up, Frank and Mikey had pulled chairs over to sit also.

“When you were brought in here,” Frank began. “I spoke to your doctor. I convinced him to review Mikey’s files. It turned out that the results of blood tests he’d had throughout the months he was here didn’t match the medication he was supposed to be getting. Some of the results showed traces of drugs that could be used in combination with hypnosis for mind control. He tested you, same drugs. I contacted Brandt, pretending to be the Hospital Administrator. I told him that Mikey had died and that you, on hearing the news, committed suicide. I asked him not to say anything about it publicly as the family hadn’t been informed. Anything just to keep him away. Anyway, as the drugs wore off and you remembered things that matched what Mikey was saying, despite having no contact, it was enough to convince the police to get a warrant to search his house.”  
“That’s why you didn’t come to see me?” I asked hopefully.  
“Yeah,” Frank nodded. “I’m sorry about that, but you had to be saying things you couldn’t possibly have been told.”

I smiled my understanding.

“What did they find?”  
Frank sighed. “They found the drugs, Mikey’s diary, a sort of cell in the basement and they found another young guy locked up down there being tortured just as you had been.”  
“He was actually caught in the act?”  
“Yeah,” Frank laughed. “So, you’re free.”  
“There was a trigger, a phrase he said that made me do what he wanted. Will it… you know if I hear it again?”  
“No,’ Frank shook his head. “Your doctor says that’s all gone with the drugs, nothing to worry about.”  
“You did all that?”  
“Yeah, but not just me.”

Frank signalled to the door and Ray and Bob entered, smiling broadly. Relief washed over me that it was finally at an end. I pulled everyone in for a group hug. My best friends, through everything.

 

**The End**


End file.
